


Life in the Fast Lane

by deluxekyluxtrashcan (rhoen)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Formula 1, Formula One, M/M, No Knowledge of F1 Needed, Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/deluxekyluxtrashcan
Summary: When Finn suddenly leaves Galactica for Skywalker Racing, Snoke's team takes on unpredictable rookie Kylo Ren. Already frustrated at having been passed over for the job he wants, race engineer Hux is unhappy when he finds out that he has to work with an amateur who is as renowned for his unpredictability and recklessness as he is for winning races. Snoke expects them to win the championship, but with a loose cannon like Kylo Ren in the team, how can they expect anything other than failure?





	Life in the Fast Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Because this focuses more on the relationship between Kylo and Hux you don't need to know anything about Formula One (other than the fact it's elite racing involving super fast cars) to read this, but here's a little info about the jobs mentioned in this fic:
> 
>  _Technical Director:_ (the job Hux wants!) designs the car  
>  _Race engineer:_ (Hux's job) works with the already designed car, sets it up for each race (decides strategy, how much fuel to use, etc), talks to the driver, works closely with data analysts and the mechanics to make everything go as smoothly as possible for the driver  
>  _Mechanic:_ someone who works on parts themselves: building, deconstructing, tyre changes in the pit
> 
> If anything else is unclear or confusing please say! But basically Hux is supposed to help Kylo win races, but Kylo is an uncooperative ass and Hux is not impressed.

“Snoke’s called a meeting.”

“He’s what?”

Hux looks up from his work, at first confused and then almost panicked by the bizarre words. The world of aerodynamic predictions, data charts and fuel consumption estimates falls away as he looks at his colleague, preparation for the upcoming race season forgotten. Phasma is clearly unsettled; Isaiah Snoke, owner of the Formula One racing team Galactica, never calls a meeting at such short notice unless he wished to express his displeasure, and Hux can’t help frantically backtracking over the last reports he sent to the old man, wondering what the cause of the summons might be. His work, as ever, had been outstanding.

“What’s it about?” he asks, hoping for a few minutes’ mental preparation before facing the imposing office Snoke invariably inhabits. He lowers his tablet, locking the screen as he tries to ready himself for the coming unknown. Around him mechanics continue working on the distinctive black and red car’s setup, and he reluctantly moves away from the organised 44hubbub. The distance between the development wing where Hux has been working and the main block where Snoke’s office is located isn’t great enough as far as Hux is concerned, and he takes the first few steps without his usual brusqueness.

Phasma, self-consciously rubbing at a streak of oil on the back of her hand in a way that’s completely uncharacteristic of her, gives a tense shrug as she falls in step beside Hux. “Not sure. I was told to get you and head over. Pablo’s been called too.”

“And Strauss?”

“I don’t think so.”

Hux gives a small huff of relief. Whatever is about to unfold, he’s sure he doesn’t want Silas Strauss around to see it. He’d applied for the far more prestigious role of technical director as soon as it became clear that the job would be up for grabs, but, despite his many years of experience and stellar standard of work that should have won him the promotion, Hux was overlooked in favour of Strauss. It was a bitter blow, and he’s is still sore from it.

“There’s nothing wrong with the new setup is there? I thought it was going smoothly.”

The concern that he’s missed something clouds his thoughts for a moment, but Hux answers confidently. “It’s looking good. We’re going to run through a few simulations tomorrow, see how far we can push the new regulations.”

“The new rear wing?”

“Yes,” he says, knowing he doesn’t need to explain further. Phasma might be the chief mechanic responsible for overseeing the crew who build, deconstruct and repair the cars, but her knowledge and understanding of the finer technical aspects is as good as that of any engineer who handles the data; she simply prefers hands-on work, and getting stuck in with the rest of the mechanics. She’s proud of her crew, and rightly so. Snoke may own the team and lay out, in no uncertain terms, what he expects of his employees, but it’s people like Phasma who make the championship-winning dream a reality – Hux too. His decisions last year wrung the best possible results from cars that should by rights have been in the middle of the pack, not at the front fighting for the constructors’ championship as well as the drivers’. They’d only just missed out, and despite being denied the chance to design this season’s car Hux is determined to win. Strauss’ design may already appear to be lacking, but Hux will be damned if he lets that affect the quality of his work.

Far too soon for Hux’s liking they’re approaching Snoke’s office, and all thoughts of bitter determination and future glory are swept aside. The receptionist acknowledges them by instructing them to wait on a row of hard plastic chairs that always make Hux feel like he’s been summoned to see the headmaster, and they sit in silence until a harassed looking Pablo turns up a minute later, followed by two more key members of staff and, confusingly, Sofia Umano. Hux can’t help watching the public relations officer, trying to guess from her presence what the impromptu meeting could be about.

A few seconds later the receptionist announces them to Snoke, and they’re shown into the pristine office. Normally Hux would appreciate such a meticulously kept room, with its considerately placed furnishings and functional structure, but something about Snoke’s always-too-dingy office unsettles him. A lot of it is perhaps to do with the man himself, who sits behind a sleek black desk, his old, gnarled fingers steepled to a point as he watches them enter, his dark, glistening eyes following their movement with an unnerving sharpness. No one knows exactly how old Snoke is, but his pale, unhealthily sallow skin looks even worse than Hux remembers, and the last few wisps of hair that clung to his head are gone. Despite that, Hux wouldn’t say Snoke is ailing. If anything, the old creature seems more intense than usual, something powerful and very much alive burning within him. His gaze is as intense and unpleasant as ever, but Hux weathers it, refusing to look away or show any signs of discomfort.

Others in the small group aren’t as good at hiding their unease, and Hux can feel the tension around him as they stand and wait for Snoke to speak. No one is invited to sit.

At last, after taking a measured look at all of them, Snoke shifts, opening his twisted mouth to speak. Hux will never admit it to anyone, but his heart, until now hammering loudly in his chest, stops in his throat.

“Finn is no longer with us.”

The ambiguous words are unsettling and confusing, and there’s a discernible shift as Hux and his colleagues try to figure out what the unexpected revelation actually means. No one dares to ask. They all simply wait for Snoke to elaborate.

“He has, it would seem,” Snoke eventually continues, his dry voice horribly captivating, “signed a contract with Skywalker Racing.”

Hux is certain Snoke would rather Finn had died than defected. The excitement Hux can sense in him is cold and sadistic: a twisted, perverse sort of glee. Snoke is quietly, calmly furious. Someone’s head will roll, and the team owner will revel in it.

“So we’ve taken on a new driver.”

The second revelation is as shocking as the first. How Snoke managed to find a new driver so quickly and so close to the start of the new season is beyond Hux. Only two drivers were left without a team at the end of the last season, and neither are suitable: one retired, and the other doesn’t have the qualities Galactica looks for in a driver. A hundred questions spring to mind, but Hux doesn’t dare voice them.

“There will be a change in the team structure. De la Garza, you’ll work with Kimmo. He’s now our number two driver. I want to see competitive results from testing by the end of the week. Hux, give him your data.”

Despite himself, Hux’s mouth falls open. He wants to protest, on so many counts, but is too stunned to do so. The last few months of hard work and all the hours he’s put in on the new build are now to be handed over to Pablo, simply because Snoke says so. He has to start again, with a complete unknown.

“Phasma, I want you working with Hux. I want nothing less than absolute perfection on this. Fullerton, I want regular data reports on my desk, and Stuart, liaise with Strauss; he already has the details. Umano, I want a target the size of the Nurburgring on the traitor’s back for this, and I want nothing but good news about our team in the media.”

Hux, for once tuned out of what is being said, manages to find his tongue. “Who are we signing?”

Snoke’s sharp gaze turns on Hux, and there’s a hint of a cruel smile before he answers. “Kylo Ren.”

Hux can’t conceal his disbelief. The name sends him reeling, and he can’t quite believe that Snoke would sign such a volatile unknown. Ren, having raced in the lower formulas, has a reputation for recklessness and violent outbursts, and as far as Hux can tell has only won races through brute force and luck rather than any sort of skill. He’s as unrefined as they come, and the only thing he has done with any degree of consistently is cause trouble. To sign him, and as their number one driver no less, is an insult not only to the team but to Mikael Kimmo, who has been consistent over the last two years he’s been with the team, and to Hux, whose skills will be wasted trying to get a low-grade driver on the podium.

Ignoring Hux’s reaction, Snoke keeps talking, making Hux’s day even worse. “And I want to see a close partnership between you two: one that promotes our efficiency and shows we’re unstoppable. Ren knows what he’s doing, so listen to him. Give him what he needs. Umano, I need you to—”

“You can’t be serious.” 

Hux hadn’t meant to interrupt, but the fact that not only has he been passed over for promotion already but he now has to bow and scrape to an unskilled rookie is too much for him to take. 

Snokes cold, calculating glare settles on him. “If you don’t like it I’ll be happy to accept your resignation.”

Hux clenches his jaw, incensed beyond belief. “No, sir.”

Knowing he has him, Snoke gives an almost imperceptible smirk. “Good. He will be here this afternoon. Now all of you go, prepare. Umano, stay. We need to discuss our media strategy.”

It’s only once he’s left the office that Hux realises he’s trembling. Phasma, walking beside him, slows as soon as they’re out of earshot of Snoke’s receptionist and turns to him, resting a steady, smudged hand on his shoulder.

“You can do this, Hux.”

Her words, meant to soothe, only irritate. “I know I can!” he snaps, bitter and angry at what he’s been reduced to. “I shouldn’t have to though, should I? I’m better than this! I should be designing the cars, not bloody babysitting a rookie, and he knows it! He knows I’m better than this, and yet he does this to me anyway!”

Phasma, unphased by his outburst, gives Hux’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “He’s old, and bitter. Besides, you and I know you’re the only one who can pull off what he’s asking. Do it. Do it so well he can’t ignore you. And who knows,” she gives a light, dismissive shrug, “maybe Kylo Ren isn’t all that bad.”

Placated by her steadiness and already annoyed at himself for losing control of his emotions, Hux sighs, latching onto the glimmer of hope she’s offered. “Maybe,” he agrees. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“We will,” Phasma nods, giving Hux’s shoulder one last squeeze for good measure. “Come on, let’s go get ready.”

The pair make their way back over to the development block, and to the garage where all the hard work Hux has done over the last few months is now useless, and he has to start from scratch with an unpredictable new component: Kylo Ren.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you'd like to read more! I'm trying to build my confidence up again and hope that this is a good place to start.


End file.
